


ForceTime

by lowlaif



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, F/M, Misunderstandings, Two Shot, but literally nothing else from the franchise is, no beta we publish our works like men, the force-bond is still a thing, yes i do think i'm hillarious occasionally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowlaif/pseuds/lowlaif
Summary: That one AU where Force-Time-Calls are still a thing, but literally nothing else is. (Or that one AU where Rey Scavenger is pretty sure Ben Solo is a deranged exhibitionist, while Ben Solo is pretty sure Rey Scavenger is a deranged stalker.)Basically, it’s just a lot of awkward misunderstandings and T̶h̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶c̶e̶ destiny has a damn ship to sail before winter ends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is (theoretically) completed, but I might add another two-shot whenever I feel like it.

Rey Scavenger had been idly sipping on a hot cup of coffee for about half an hour before it happened, and as the situation was unfolding in front of her very own, sleep-deprived eyes, the young woman detachedly wondered whether she’d hit her head too hard after falling out of bed this morning.

However, this particular Sunday was an arguably nice one, with snow piling up on the pavement outside, and a few birds chiming their songs through the beautifully carved, wooden door that opened minutely, followed by the soft sound of a bell ringing out to notify the barista of their new customers. The scent of various warm beverages filled the air, only accompanied by a waft of idle chatter shared by lovers, friends or relatives, and the interior was beautiful, it’s lightening cozy enough to make the cushions Rey sat on seem even more comfortable than they already were by themselves. Not a single person currently present seemed to be in a foul mood, and even Rey had been rather cheerful despite her stubborn aversion towards winter and everything that came along with the coldest season of the year. (She was a summer-child and couldn’t bear any temperatures below 20 degrees after all.) But her unusual sense of contentment had crumbled as soon as that weird guy decided to show up out of - virtually and literally - nowhere, being oddly simultaneous to the headache that had been haunting the young woman lately, while also making her double take in surprise.

Because there, in the middle of the sweet little cafè called Republicià which was only known to a few locals, stood a man. A man that was currently pulling his shirt off in a single, fluent movement, discarding it by throwing the piece of clothing out of Rey’s sight and probably onto someone’s breakfast in the far back of the place. (Although she was pretty convinced that the toned biceps which came into view now would be compensation enough for any dish he could ruin during his entire lifetime.)

The young woman blinked. Then she stealthily scanned the adjacent tables over the rim of her cup; searching for guests that would be aggravated by such crude and exhibitionistic behavior. But the adorable older lady seated right in the front rows of his performance didn’t seem to mind, cutting through her pie with simple-minded concentration and a faint smile tugging on her lips. The barista kept taking and finishing orders with rehearsed skill. People were still chatting in a pleasant volume, despite the audible clatter of cutlery. Not even Finn took note of wannabe Abercrombie & Fitch, although that boy had an integrated radar for abs in the back of his head which had never failed since they left high school. So what on earth was happening right now? Was she even witnessing anything out of the ordinary, or was she stuck inside of an alarmingly realistic feverish dream? And - if the guy was indeed just a figment of her imagination like she boldly assumed - why was he so fucking shredded?

These questions remained unanswered as the young woman couldn’t help but stare at his sculpted back musculature in awe, concurrently wondering how she hadn’t heard him enter or noticed the slightest amount of snow anywhere on those luscious locks. They were pitch black, slightly damp and reflected the light provided by one of the many lamps overhead, adding to the impression that Rey was unintentionally attending an advertisement in real life. It didn’t take a lot of persuasion, though. Rey would buy whatever product made her want to run her hands through his hair this badly without a second thought. She even wanted to tug at the strands and rub them between her fingers like a psychopath, but instead of worrying about her own mental condition, the young woman continued to examine that strange man, gaze sweeping over his silhouette with a bizarre fixation and newfound curiosity. His skin was practically glowing underneath the illumination too, violently white but dotted with a few moles she wanted to count for some incomprehensible reason.

All in all, his back was quite eye-catching, she’d give him that. But taking off one’s shirt in public, although everyone else in close vicinity wore sweaters, was just weird, so she tried her best to keep her wandering gaze under control and drool inside of her mouth. Nothing to see here. Moving along.

Rey had missed most of whatever Finn was rambling on about up until now and felt a bit guilty for ignoring her best friend like this, hoping he hadn’t noticed nor taken any offense in her behavior. It was surprisingly challenging to concentrate on his words, although she never had any problems listening to him before. Not once, no matter how boring the topic was. But no matter how many times she forcedly turned her head away, no matter how hard she buried her nails into the supple skin of her thigh: Her focus kept slipping back to the half-naked male that had invaded her field of sight, sticking to him without leaving her any choice at all. It was positively maddening: Years of practiced feminism and ridicule of gender-stereotypes just passed her by because of one set of meat-tissues!

And… _god_ , he was ridiculously tall too, towering over most of the people here thus probably surpassing her height with ease, displaying an exquisite stature now barely covered by a pair of sweatpants that hung very, very low on his hips as he was fiddling with something out of Rey’s sight. And that’s why she was so sure that she’d gotten a concussion somehow, somewhere, somewhen, because the only other option would include that the cute, elderly couple directly seated front of that dubious man had hired a stripper in broad daylight, and that they were going to get their money’s worth in a few seconds.

Probably an anniversary gift the husband had gotten his wife.

_Or vice versa._

Rey might’ve snickered at that thought hadn’t she been so utterly flabbergasted, taking another sip of her drink while contemplating whether somebody had switched it for vodka or just mixed some strong hallucinogens in when she hadn’t paid attention. But then, after her initial breakdown, she just decided to brush it off. Some random hot guy taking off his shirt in a slightly exhibitionistic manner was not going to keep her from having a great coffee with her best friend. She’d let him do as he pleased, because she wasn’t a horny teenager anymore and because she despised drama more than anything. She would finish her coffee, leave this shop and have a splendid day without any unusual occurrences, dragging her best friend Finn along as if he was a mannequin while looking for something more delicious than abs. Maybe some Crêpes from the town-renowed eatery a bit farther down the street. She liked Crêpes! Crêpes were great.

But she was wrong, very wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, Rey should’ve seen it coming beforehand.

The next few seconds were rather monotonous anyway; nothing had changed, and nothing fell out of place.

The scent of various warm beverages filled the air, only accompanied by a waft of idle chatter shared by lovers, friends or relatives. No one seemed uncomfortable, most guests were here with people they adored after all. Orders were being passed over the counter connecting the kitchen to the service desk, and another coin landed in the tip jar with a pleasant but soft sound. It was cold, the birds were singing, and Rey was sipping on her coffee. She was content again, relaxing on a surprisingly beautiful Sunday, despite the snow gathering on the pavement outside. Nothing had changed, and nothing fell out of place.

Until the model suddenly dropped his pants to the ground with unsettling practicality.

_Right along with his boxer shorts._

Rey made a startled noise in the back of her throat and promptly choked on the espresso she’d been nursing, holding out her palm towards Finn to keep him at a healthy distance. The last time her friend had tried to help her out of a similar predicament ended with a poorly executed Heimlich Maneuver and severe chest-pain for weeks. She wasn’t going to take any chances and let him crack another one of her ribs again, opting for a quick death rather than the pain of being wrapped in Finn’s embrace one more time.

The now starkly naked, black-haired male immediately tensed and whirled around, gaze settling on Rey as something akin to bewilderment dawned on his unconventionally handsome features. Then most emotions were wiped off his face except for seething, hot anger, while his full lips curled into a thin line and his hands clenched to fists by his side, muscles shaking under the strain of remaining motionless until he could assess the situation. He seemed almost as surprised to see her as she was when she had first spotted him, but his astonishment turned into something worse faster than her’s had. And yes, he was quite scary in that instance.

Rey was a little preoccupied to notice, though.

Because she was currently stuck in a limbo between embarrassment and literal suffocation as her own gaze had dropped where you'd expect it, air rushing out of her lungs at the massive size this guy packed. Her blood was rushing up into her cheeks and head simultaneously, drowning out any rational thought she could've had in that instant. In the meantime, her body was fighting for air, coughing the liquid that had invaded her trachea out, causing multiple heads to whip around, some of them observing her in silent pity while others only seemed annoyed at the disruption of their conversation. The birds were still singing. The barista was continuously taking orders. And Rey was watching that crazy bastard in disbelieve as he pulled up his pants in an haste. His lean fingers were clutching a piece of the ripped cord while he took a threatening step towards Rey. Then he just looked at her, thoroughly and entirely pissed.

Contrasting to that, she must've looked like she was about ready to shit her pants or spontaneously combust by now. The rest of her coffee had been spilled onto her favorite beige hoodie, and her fists were clenched hard enough to make the colour of her knuckles resemble that exhibitionist's skin.

An “Oh my god, are you alright?” resounded right next to her, and Rey hadn’t got half the mind to register the well-intended inquiry or react to it.

(She was obviously not alright. And she could still see the well-endowed bulge.)

Finn was frantically waving his arms around but thankfully keeping himself from touching her like she’d asked, meeting the other customer’s questioning looks with an excusing smile as he tried to coax some kind of response out of the young woman he’d been talking to moments prior. Mr. I-drop-my-pants-in-public seemed to have a similar idea, but his approach was a lot less compassionate.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he growled, seemingly growing more intimidating by the second despite his severe lack of sufficient clothing.

Rey couldn’t make out his dangerously low words over the ubiquitous noise that surrounded them. But she did notice his smooth, velvety bass (which shouldn't have made her insides turn the way they did) and shivered involuntarily, pushing her nails into her skin in an attempt to somehow distract herself from his mind-boggling appearance. Strangely, no one in the little room startled at his outburst, or at the fact that a giant, naked man had been flaunting his assets in front of an elderly lady who was still eating her pie cluelessly. Rey found that his stare was burning itself into her skin and that she was the only one who encountered it. She was captivated, paralyzed, immobile. Maybe even a bit perplexed…

But not enamored enough to keep her mouth shut.

“Are you actually serious?!” she shot back, bafflement settling over her features before she launched into another coughing fit. Multiple heads perked up this time, and they all gawked into her direction. However they managed to ignore that hunk as Abercrombie drew closer, and closer, and - oh god - she really needed to get her priorities straight because this shouldn't have been arousing at all.

Especially since the guy looked like he could easily break her neck between his index finger and thumb. Or between his thighs.

Get your fucking head out of the gutter, Scavenger, this is not about your raging hormones.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded coldly, and Rey was unable to comprehend what the hell he was going on about, ultimately settling for the conclusion that he was completely. fucking. nuts. before she got her breathing under control and usual snide back, meeting him headfirst with the exact same amount of animosity and contempt that he was displaying right now.

“Through the door?” she hissed at him, “What the hell do YOU think you’re doing, stripping in front of everyone?”

The telltale sound of a video being recorded rang out in the small room and effectively ripped Rey out of her fury for a few fleeting moments. She chose to ignore it in favor of her last remaining brain cells, acting like she didn’t hear the laugh that resounded subsequently, or how somebody whispered: “Man, this chick’s crazy.”

She must’ve been imagining it. There was no way these people were misguided enough to ignore his actions while they threw all their discontent at her.

Fake-Adonis crossed his arms in front of his body, flexing them intimidatingly as he growled: "What? Are you some deranged stalker or something?”

And Rey's temper flared up again as she jumped to her feet.

“Who are you calling deranged, you complete and utter tool!?”

That's when somebody grabbed her arm, yanking her back before she could dive over the table and lunge for his stupid throat.

It was obviously Finn, and she was obviously seconds from snapping at her best friend, asking why the fuck he would hold her back in this kind of situation. But she halted when she saw the look on his face; his eyebrows were furrowed and a crease had settled between them. He was staring at her as if she was the one acting out of line, and Rey couldn’t comprehend why he wouldn’t be on her side despite their yearlong friendship. The young woman knew he’d try to calm her down as he opened his mouth, but she would never have expected the words that followed, blinking at him. Stupefied.

"Rey…” he paused, “Who are you talking to right now?”

She barely snorted, rolled her eyes and gestured towards the antagonistic stripper in an offhand gesture, musing “Him, obviously” with inappropriate amusement lacing her tone.

Then her gaze shot back to the exhibitionist, only to witness how he had vanished into thin air, no sign of his existence left behind for her to cling onto. No pants. No shirt. No voice. He was just gone. Simply gone.

She saw different people of different ages gawking at her, most of whom she knew personally because this town wasn’t a big one. Some of them were staring in amusement, some scoffing in annoyance and some peering at her with concern evidently etched into their expressions. Concern for their own safety. Even the elderly couple was shaking their heads at her, exchanging muttered opinions and theories on what might’ve caused the young woman to snap so violently, and in the end, Rey slumped down in defeat, falling onto the cushions as she was assaulted by the lighting which was abruptly too bright and too strong, blinding her almost painfully. Her headache had dissipated, but a foreign kind of dread settled deep inside of her stomach as her hands began shaking.

“Where did he go?” she asked in pure confusion, and Flinn just blinked back at her equally perplexed. Neither of them seemed to be sure of how to react to the other, and it took a while until her best friend finally answered:

“Who, Rey? Who do you mean?”

And that’s the story of how Rey Scavenger began losing her mind.

Or the story of how she was banned from her favorite cafè for a week and ridiculed on the regional Tumblr-blog, just because her own personal Freudian slip was embodied by an attractive, black-haired creep that no one else could see.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben Solo - or, as he was referred to by most of his acquaintances: _Kylo Ren_ \- had a professedly short temper.

That fact wasn't exactly a secret to anyone; maybe more of an unwritten law nobody spoke of, or the elephant in the room only highly suicidal people dared to address.

Although his facial expressions didn't allow any speculations concerning his sudden mood swings or when he'd lash out again, Kylo kept every last one of his colleagues on their best behavior in the abject attempt to avoid his major bollockings and bloodcurdling punishments for as long as humanly possible. But whenever he was only seconds from chewing out yet another intern for yet _another_ medical assignment that hadn't been submitted on time, his lips would be pressed together in a taut grimace and brows scrunched up indiscernibly.

That man usually wore an impenetrable mask on his features like a thick layer of ice, parading it to his surroundings with a cold glint in his irises that never really thawed. The only emotion anyone could faultlessly read there, right between the creases of his forehead, was the ubiquitous annoyance that never entirely dissipated, as he kept himself and his feelings locked away somewhere in a lonely, dark place. And in the unlikely occurrence that Kylo was actually peek pissed, his left eye may twitch slightly. However, no other indicator would make you suspect that you’d better start running for the hills if you didn’t want to die a very brief and very embarrassing death in the next few seconds, and that's why not a single associate in his interpersonal proximity was willing to induce Kylo’s wrath, just to find out what was going on in that cluttered conscience of his. The scale was off. In retrospect, it simply wasn’t worth it. No one was that self-destructive.

(Aside from himself.)

Ben Solo - or, as anyone who'd like to keep their head on their neck would call him: _Kylo Ren_ \- had a professedly short temper.

And lately, it's been getting far, far worse.

He had futilely tried to vent his frustration through a jog that resembled more of a sprint, leaving behind the unfamiliar streets framed by similar building complexes with only a few streetlights illuminating his somber and somewhat ominous path. Freezing air was rushing into his lungs, mercilessly burning his throat as his tongue dried out. He felt his muscles protesting, calves aching and sweat sliding down his neck. But Kylo didn't stop until the seething rage in his chest had turned to a faint buzz he could easily push back into that particular part of his mind he hadn't ventilated since fourth grade.

It was bursting at the seems. The raven-haired man acted like he didn't notice. Repression wasn't considered the most common defense mechanism for nothing, after all, and he had a lot of experience regarding it, making him become ludicrously skilled at closing his eyes when confronted with an obvious problem.

He shut his eyes. And he ran. Just a little while longer.

By the time Kylo’s legs were about to give out beneath him, the receptionist of the hotel lobby had fallen asleep with her gingerly head placed on her arm, snoring away without a care in the world - or his arrival, for that matter. He shot her a disapproving look, contemplating whether he should file a complaint later, but the young girl was in luck tonight. It was an unfulfilling and rather bothersome task, and Kylo was in no mood to get someone fired again. Instead, he beelined for the elevator, stepping in and out of the small compartment assaulted by ironically cheerful music that was being blared through the worst speakers he had ever witnessed, stretching out his sore limbs with proficient movements and a certain routine developed through mindless repetition.

The keycard to his penthouse got declined on the first time, denying him entrance on his second try too. Only when he'd turned it around once more and pressed it to its port with excessive force did the lock click and the hinges it was attached to swing open. Sighing in irritation, Kylo grabbed the water he had placed on a shelf beforehand and downed it like a man dying from thirst, shutting the door by unceremoniously shoving it back with his heel. A bit of liquid dribbled from his chin to his clavicle, and he let it. It didn’t matter anyway, since right now, in the privacy of this room, his face was to be seen by no one that could deem its current look inappropriate.

The tension finally fell (despite not entirely), simultaneous to the sound of the emptied plastic bottle crumbling in his hands. Kylo’s omnipresent scoff faded into the dark rims beneath his eyes, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion after a long day of dealing with incompetent subordinates and arrogant superiors alike, while he was fully aware someone was bound to notice how his skin was getting even lighter than usual, how his hands were shaking because of a reason unrelated to his workout and how he was letting his mask slip way too often recently. His co-workers might get the impression that he was sick, and Kylo wouldn't have that crap. Not if he could help it.

His authority had to stay undisputed. Therefore, the man had to make sure his facial expressions stood airtight, which shouldn’t pose much of a difficulty. His body was healthy enough after all, and his mind would have to cooperate sooner or later...

Even if he had to force himself.

It was about three in the morning and eerily quiet during the time Kylo gathered a few necessities out of a suitcase he hadn't bothered to unpack yet, standing tall in the unnecessarily enormous hotel room that had been provided to him in an idiotic understanding of their company-issued reward system. The tight shirt was off his body in seconds, flung to the side carelessly as he brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead in an automated process. They were damp. And frigid. He wiped his palms off on his sweatpants, grabbing their cord with shaking hands that couldn't quite untie the knot, leaving a grown man his age with the ridiculous trouble of fumbling around with a piece of clothing like a damned preschooler would. Fucking hell.

In the end, Kylo opted for sheer strength, ripping the absurd obstacle open as his patience snapped and teeth gnashed. He was about ready to step out of his sportswear and into the bathroom, letting a shower wash away all the emotions his workout hadn't, because he had grown tired, so fucking tired of how weak he was, but before he could move a muscle, he heard a stupidly dramatic gasp behind him, blinking in surprise as his dick twitched up in inexplicable interest and a single shudder crawled towards the base of his neck.

For a second, he simply remained still.

Then Kylo twirled around, gaze immediately zeroing in on the lithe woman sat on his bed in a previously relaxed, now cowering position. Her delicate fingers were wrapped around the handle of a cup (He saw but didn't quite register the cursive "Republicià" printed onto it.), arm outstretched to his direction as if to keep him from moving, coughing her lungs out with tears brimming in her eyes and shoulders shaking violently. She had a relatively pleasant appearance: Her hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail and her skin painted a few shades darker than his. Freckles were littering her nose, too, which only added to her disarming look, and one of the most intimidating men known to this earth had to actively bite his tongue in order to keep himself from offering her a glass of water, or worse - his assistance, since he was _pretty sure_ she had no valid reason to sit where she sat at the given moment.

He didn't notice how the material of his bed didn't curve beneath her weight. He didn't even notice how the cup was startingly unmoving as if placed onto a surface that didn't exist in his surroundings. Hell, Kylo barely had half the mind to contemplate alerting security until he saw her staring at him in pure, honest shock. Something in his brain short-circuited at that, throwing him for another loop, because he did not know how to deal with this situation in the most favorable manner.

She hadn't expected him. That much was clear.

But why would a burglar take the time to make herself a coffee and get cozy? And why would he only note the deep aroma of the beverage now, when the scent should've long since spread inside of the room and covered every last parameter with its smell? That strange woman kept staring at him like he was the strange one, frantically trying to keep her eyes over his beltline, acting as if she had caught him doing something indecent, and - trust him on this - it was positively unnerving. His mind was overflowing with unlikely theories and implausible possibilities: Maybe she had been given the wrong room number and key? Maybe she hadn’t noticed his belongings spawn all over the place? Maybe this was an unfortunate misunderstanding caused by a series of mistakes committed by the overpaid staff? And there was another, blunt but nonetheless nagging thought gnawing at the back of his thoughts, becoming louder and louder until it practically screeched:

Indecent?

That word finally rung a bell with him and his gaze dropped instantaneously. With another blink, Kylo realized that, indeed, he was still starkly naked, and the man’s face thankfully didn't betray his mortification as he covered himself in a haste. His heart rate, however, picked up considerably while he mulled over his earlier decisions: That incompetent receptionist would definitely get fired before the sun could pass over the horizon, and additionally, he’d make sure no one was going to offer her a job ever again, not after causing him this embarrassment and headache. Accompanied by the deafening noise of blood thundering through his temples, he also noticed how his pants hung too low since he couldn’t bind or fasten them anymore, and Kylo cursed himself for ripping the cord because that had been an idiotic and childish thing to do. He crossed his arms to cover up how he had to hook his lean fingers into the waistband for leverage. Also, he felt his common sense and shame exit stage left as he begged whatever random divinity he didn’t believe in to cut this entire shit-uation short.

When he looked up again, the lithe beige hoodie that practically hugged her curves sported a new stain. Her cup was gone, presumably dropped somewhere between the blankets hotel staff liked to fold for aesthetical reasons and the young woman was holding out both of her hands now, clutching them into the air in front of her until her knuckles turned white. It took her a few moments to gather herself, but then she turned to him with an expression he identified as disbelieve, opening her mouth to say something, anything to defend herself.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" asked Kylo before she could, emotion completely void from his tone as he watched her with newfound distrust, growing annoyed at how his mind was hellbent on liking that insane woman, although she might've been wearing a bomb vest for all he knew. (She might’ve gotten screwed over by the drowsy receptionist too though, so he concurrently reprimanded himself for being such a dickweed.)

As if she could read his thoughts, the young woman spat something back at him promptly, but he couldn't make out the words because of the heavy dialect that caught him on surprise and made understanding her on the first attempt an impossible task. Her manner of speech was undoubtedly British. But this was America, and he definitely hadn’t expected such a distinct accent around these parts, squinting at her while his patience ran out.

“How did you get in here?” he inquired again, sounding angry although the ire was mostly directed at himself and how he couldn’t manage a coherent line of thinking for the life of him. Now, Kylo had her undivided attention, and she gathered her breath to hiss “Through the door?” while that look in her eyes pierced itself through his chest like a spear.

“What the hell do YOU think you’re doing, stripping in front of everyone?” she added with contempt, gesturing at his sweatpants offhandedly.

Kylo just _stopped_.

Doing what now?

"What?" he echoed, "Are you some deranged stalker or something?”

Actually, that was an honest question, he didn’t mean any harm with it. What he didn't expect was the expression on her face then: Utter aggravation and the unhidden intention to hurl herself at him, and although the latter wasn't exactly foreign, the way it was displayed on her features was definitely new to Kylo. He took a precautionary step back. His reflexes forced him to tense.

“Who are you calling deranged, you complete and utter tool!?”

He would've snorted at the insult hadn't she looked like she was about to unleash literal death at him. The young woman pushed her hands flat against a surface Kylo couldn't see, propelling herself over it with smooth and skilled movements, strength clearly evident despite her small size. But suddenly, her arm seemed to be yanked back, stopping her in the middle of the motion, right before she could launch herself at him with her nails and teeth. Kylo furrowed a brow. And then, before he could even blink, she was gone.

The raven-haired man just stood there for a solid minute until her disappearance finally dawned on him, looking mighty dumb staring at nothing at all while he comprehended nothing at all. He hastily walked over to the bed and looked for any sign that this woman had been here, that he had really seen her and that he wasn’t going crazy. She couldn't have vanished into thin air this quickly without any kind of trap door or aperture to aid her, but there were none, and when his hands glid over the silkily white sheet - although he was sure he'd seen her spill coffee all over it from the corner of his eye - it was cold.

Kylo wrapped a towel around his hips when he exited the shower about ten minutes later. Just in case. He didn’t realize how the young woman had taken his problems with her by completely throwing him off his tune and letting him think that his mind was in a worse state than he had originally assumed.

That might be the reason why he was gone as soon as his head touched the pillow and finally slept through an entire night after months of insomnia. But it couldn't explain why he felt like someone was lying next to him, guiding him to slumber with the soft tune of her breath.


End file.
